cartegena

I don’t really know when the night ended, all I remember is salsa dancing till the sun burst through the horizons husks. We had a short stopover in Cartagena and were on our way to take a 24 hour bus to Bogota.  The beauty in traveling is that even the smallest interactions can give birth to so much light- and the truth is that this day almost blinded us.  The day began quite normal for being in Colombia- we left the pastel city in a taxi that snaked its way through the littered canals, passing grinning children at play. Murky water and heaps of wasted treasures lay playground to the innocent youth who were out enjoying an average day in the life.

As our taxi emerged from the village, we continued on down a main road bursting with life and decorated tuk tuk’s, which are three-wheeled open-air taxis that are in itself the cheapest and most exciting way to explore a city- even more so if your driver happens to be a little tipsy off some local hooch.

We finally arrived at the station and had to part ways with our driver- As he drove away we could still make out his head swaying in unison to the sound of salsa pulsating from his taxi. Some people are so vibrant and genuine that they can affect your whole outlook on the day- and here I am 7 months later still missing the guy to death.

We entered the station with intentions of purchasing a ticket and munching on some grub to tie us over on the trek across the city that made Cocaine famous.

Now, at bus stations in Colombia there isn’t one bus that goes from A to B there are dozens and each one has their own company- which is nice because it leaves the ball in play, allowing the penny pinching traveller to put his bartering skills to use. I love a good bargain brawl- you know the one that leaves your conscious unsettled to the point it might have jeopardized the safety of you expedition.

So we managed to maybe save a couple of dollars on our trip- no big deal-. We paid for our tickets, about 90 pesos (roughly 30 dollars Canadian) and went to go look for a place to put our bags for the duration of our stay. Walking around we spot a police officer and ask him if we can leave our bags behind his station- he tells us there is a lockup; and says it in perfect English.  So the three of us get to talking and he turns out to be a really nice guy. When we are about to leave I ask him for a lapel, something on his uniform to remember him by. I told him I would trade him something from along my travels, but that I packed light for my two month journey and I don’t have much to offer.  So after looking at his shirt he gives me this gold colored pin that has two guns crossed at the necks- a very cool score I might say. So I am searching through my bag and everything I own is either used, worn-out or smelly and the only thing I can find is two fun condoms (one glows in the dark and the other is studded) and a bag of fireworks, those little m-80 ones that have a real kick. He happily accepts and we joke that he is going to go home to his girlfriend with fireworks in hand throwing them at the floor and jumping into the bedroom with two condoms in his hands saying “baby, its love making time”. By the time we said goodbye to the police officer over an hour had gone by, so we decided just to keep our bags with us and bring them to the lunch table, where a group of women were crooning us into eating at their restaurant.  We instinctively agreed, I mean it’s hard to say no to five beautiful Colombian women, especially ones that know how to cook. So we order one of the meals that you find regularly throughout Colombia and it is a potato soup with fish meat (cebiche) accompanied by beans (frejoiles), fried plantains and piece of chicken.  The food was so delicious and the women were so friendly that I walked behind the counter to thank them. They invited me in and we danced to the salsa coming from the boom-box.

They placed an apron and chef’s hat on me and posed for some pictures, but not before capturing my lifelong dream of cooking in a Colombian kitchen with five women on video.   I really don’t know how the topic was brought up, but there was talk of getting a haircut. One of the ladies grabbed my hand as Ryan and I were dragged across the street to a where a man had a barbershop set up outside underneath a tarp hanging from surrounding trees.  This man was one of the friendliest guys I had ever met, just happy about life and had a huge smile on a perfect day. He told us he has been cutting hair at this location for 15 years, and we joked that Ryan’s mother Monica was a hairdresser too and that both of them could start a business together in Colombia.

He asked me how I would like my haircut, and the easiest way to explain it is by saying David Beckham because Colombians love their Football (American soccer), so now he is joking to me that I look like Beckham because I now of course look like him after receiving the haircut. Now let me tell you this was a real haircut, he put so much time and detail and even trimmed my side burns with just razor in hand. Ryan looks more like Tom cruise so he gets his haircut accordingly. Our bus was leaving in minutes, so we paid the man 8 pesos plus a two peso tip (three dollars Canadians total) for the both of us, thanked him graciously and wished him luck, and returned to the restaurant for the rest of our bags and some snacks for the bus ride to Bogota. Filling our bags with chips and soda, we can see the captain waiving us on.  As we run through the terminal, we are cheered on by locals who are roused in suspicion, jumping on board we move to the back of the bus and get ourselves comfortable for the 24 hour ride across the country.  With a copy of Allen Ginsberg’s biography in hand, I can only think about how much fun we had today and how excited I am for more adventures to come.